


A Bad Week For Nick Fury

by AnnaDruvez



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fury Has Control Issues, Gen, Humor, If you've got immortality flaunt it?, Phil is sooo glad he's not in charge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaDruvez/pseuds/AnnaDruvez
Summary: So, Nick Fury has a problem. Ms. Lewis isn't under his thumb anymore. Getting her back under control will be a challenge. Warning: Language, non-graphic/canon-typical violence.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	A Bad Week For Nick Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer
> 
> If you can't figure out that I don't own Marvel, you need serious help and some lessons on recent events.  
> Hot off the press, not edited. Just a bit of fun.

_Monday_

When SHIELD Director Nicholas Fury finally realized that Darcy Lewis was no longer attached to _any_ of his numerous programs, he was more than a bit peeved. She'd been part of Dr. Foster's group during the Thor Incident, and Nick was damned if he was going to let go of a potential leak so easily. Still, from the report on her – which he'd, admittedly, had to dig out of storage since she'd not been considered high priority – she'd been fairly easily distracted by the agents that were nicely toned and in her age bracket. At least, until they'd taken her iPod.

A quick check of her current employer – a small coffee shop, of all things – and Brock Rumlow was dispatched to bring her to heel. Fury didn't particularly care how he did it as long as there was as little collateral damage as possible. Brock decided that, since she was nicely endowed, the best recruitment method was the male version of the honeypot.

From the after action report and the surveillance video, the interaction was approximately so:

Rumlow: (leans on counter)

Lewis: (bored and trying to be chipper) Good morning, what can I get you?

Rumlow: (appealing grin) A no-fat mocha latte and your number would be great.

Lewis: (makes drink and sets it on counter) That'll be four seventy-three.

Rumlow: (pouting attractively) No number?

Lewis: (lackadaisically shrugs) Sorry, I have a type.

Rumlow: (pouts harder) And what would that be?

Lewis: (shark grin) Not a misogynistic, jack-booted thug.

What was worse, Nick grimaced, was that Rumlow not only took 'no' for an answer, but he'd actually come back to the local base and sulked the rest of the day away. Then, when Nick tried to take him to task for it, a passing Personnel rep had had the balls to rip into him. Something about 'no' being a complete sentence and that sexual harassment was a serious issue in the workplace.

Maybe Agent 13 would have better luck...

_Tuesday_

Nick popped two aspirin, downed a swallow of whiskey, then decided to add three more aspirin to the mix. Agent 13, AKA Sharon Carter, struck out even worse than Rumlow. According to the report, Ms. Lewis' objection to 13 was that she was too pretty. It would cause "self-esteem issues and totally tank the relationship, you know?"

Carter had come back glowing and gloating. Apparently, there was something of a rivalry with Rumlow and she'd had fun rubbing in that she was too gorgeous while he was "just a misogynist." Rumlow, in a display of infinite maturity, retreated to his quarters to sulk some more.

At this rate, he'd probably run out of agents.

_Wednesday_

The less said about the team sent to "forcibly reacquire" Ms. Lewis, the better. Suffice to say, it appeared that a divinely-blessed taser had been overlooked in the Puente Antiguo incident. And, it seemed, the divine blessing included infinite charges and animated prongs that were a little "overly friendly" in their choice of targets. The entire squad wound up in therapy – physical and psychological.

Nick decided the glass was a waste of time when it came to his favorite coping mechanism. He felt that anyone else subjected to the video of the incident would agree.

_Thursday_

SHIELD had a plethora of snipers. So, the random draw for who got to take out the unfortunate Ms. Lewis fell to Agent 137. Agent 137 was infinitely professional. He didn't need to know more than who, where and when. Agent 117 never questioned orders.

Until now.

Nick was standing in the local command center while the operation was underway. Agent 137's handler was looking increasingly frazzled at the conversation, so the director walked over and flipped a switch to output the sound to speaker instead of the headphones. The wide-eyed handler looked up at him and swallowed. "Could you say that again, 137?"

"Whose god-forsaken cluster fuck is this?" 137's voice was somewhere in between exasperated and furious with a hint of terror blended in for spice. "You said she was 'difficult', so I brought anti-tank rounds. You didn't tell me that the target could re-grow half her fucking chest."

Nick blinked. The handler looked lost. Nick made a mental note to send her for more training. He flipped the switch for the mic. "Take a head shot."

"Teach grandma to suck eggs - I did that too!" There was an exasperated groan. "She regrew her damned _head._ "

Nick was, contrary to popular opinion, not unflappable. He felt distinctly flapped. Nonetheless, he had an image to uphold. "Abort mission. Return to base. I want a complete report on my desk at 0800."

He then stalked, with great purpose, out of the command center. That said purpose was cracking open an entire _case_ of whiskey was immaterial.

_Friday_

"We have a problem." Phil Coulson's head pushed past Nick's office door to announce. "In the cafeteria."

"Well, deal with it." Nick was too busy trying to figure out what to do with the hellspawn known as Darcy Lewis to really bother with anything else at the moment.

"It's Lewis." Coulson did his damnedest not to look smug when Nick jumped up to investigate what the hell the girl was doing there. Nick would, of course, get him back for it later. Such was the price of getting one up on the boss.

In the cafeteria, they came to a halt at the opposite end of the table from her. Lewis - screw the 'Ms', Nick decided - was perched on one of the tables. She had a dozen agents clustered around her. Fury had no idea what story she'd just concluded, but all of them were laughing. She looked up and flashed a megawatt smile at them. "Secret Agent iPod Thief! Good to see you."

"Ms. Lewis." Coulson – the traitor - politely acknowledged her presence and Nick could almost feel the Agent's relief that he wasn't in charge of this fiasco. "What brings you by today?"

"Oh, well." She waved a hand and pulled something out of her jacket pocket with the other. "I thought I'd return these. Only good manners, right?"

She sent the items skittering down the table towards them. Everyone looked to see the remains of the depleted uranium rounds that Agent 117 had used slide towards them. A flash of light drew their attention to where she had been. She was gone.

"Figure out how she got in. And out." Nick walked out of the room, wondering if there was room in the budget for them to establish an on-base liquor store for his personal use.

_Saturday_

Taking a page out of the super villain handbook, Nick had piranhas released in the pool that Lewis was using. He also had every bit of food in her apartment poisoned, rigged the place to blow, and – out of pure spite – moved all her furniture two inches to the left.

The piranhas died after about a minute and a half in the chlorinated water. Her hot dogs were "remarkably tasty in a way I've never had before." Then, she realized she was out of relish and ran up to the store to get more. Which was when the bomb in her apartment went up.

At least she'd stubbed her toe.

_Sunday_

"Are you having fun, dear?" Death asked with the particular skeletal body language that Darcy had learned to interpret as a smile.

"Yep." She popped the 'p' with relish, then spooned another bite of her hot-fudge sundae into her mouth. Hotel room service was awesome. She wished she could live like this all the time.

"It seems rather mean," Life opined with a frown. The one fern in the apartment wilted a little. Life traced a finger over one leaf and it perked up again.

"Well, they did try to kidnap me. And shoot me. I didn't mind the ego-boost from the flirting, though. That was nice." She looked thoughtful for a moment and shrugged. "Besides, dad, do you have any idea what they'd do if they did manage to contain me?"

Life reluctantly nodded. Death stroked her boney fingers through her daughter's hair, then began to braid it.

**Author's Note:**

> First I had the idea that Nick had to have run into someone, somewhere that he couldn't do anything about. Then, I had to ponder how that would play out. Finally, of course, I had to figure out a reason that he couldn't. I have no idea who created the meme that inspired the reason, but here's the text of it:
> 
> Life and Death have been in love  
> for longer than we have words to describe.  
> Life sends countless gifts to Death  
> and Death keeps them forever.


End file.
